When days and years proclaim you’re old —  A dottle, cripple, gouty fellow, Then for support you can lay hold  O’ the upright of your umberella.

He talks about it a lot, but I would bet my bottom dollar that he has never actually been there.

The river was quite wide and with a swift current, the shores low and gravelly, as was the bed of the river; but we all managed to get over without accident, except the writer, who, with his usual luck, managed to secure two good bootsful of water.

Much did the Craven seeme to mone his case […].